silently falling apart
by Grdnofevrythng
Summary: For Quinntana Week's Historical Time Period Prompt: Quinn's life is forever changed when she enters Oberlin in the late 60's.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, they'd probably go at it like bunnies.  
A/N: First and foremost, a big thank you to Laura and my girlfriend for pushing me to finish this. This fic is longer than the rest and is part of the reason I haven't updated Love Fool yet (which will be finished and soon, I promise.) It's a gradual progression in Quinn and Santana's relationship, especially given the period of time I'll be dealing with. It's also told entirely from Quinn's POV which means it'll deal a lot with what's going on with her. So, please be patient with me. Special thanks to Aimee for the beta services. Enjoy! **

* * *

**May 1966**

"Quinn, did you hear me?"

The question posed brought the blonde up short. She'd been listening to Finn. Of course she had. It was just that the words didn't make any sense and she felt an overwhelming sense of panic like that time she'd been locked in Frannie's closet. The walls had felt like they were closing in and this wasn't unlike that. She gulped in a deep breath, discreetly and glanced up into expectant light brown eyes.

Finn had kind eyes. The kindest she'd ever seen. She remembered the first time she'd seen him in Mrs. Franklin's biology class. He'd asked to borrow a pencil because the tip of his had splintered. She'd been caught off guard by the sincerity and had breathlessly handed over her spare yellow pencil. And the smile he'd given her in appreciation had caused her heart to flutter.

Her heart wasn't fluttering now. No, she was sure it'd stopped altogether and as much as she wanted to respond, she couldn't. The words stuck in her throat and she felt the need to do something silly and drastic like flee. She glanced around quickly, looking for an escape but found none. She was trapped.

The warm, gentle hand on her shoulder drew her attention and Quinn glanced up at her boyfriend, the man she was supposed to be spending the rest of her life with, and she felt like she was seeing him for the first time. What had he just been saying?

"Are you all right?" He asked, his brow furrowed in concern. Quinn forced herself to nodded, gulping in another breath. He seemed almost relieved as he smiled back at her. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, you've enlisted in the United States Air Force and have the intentions of flying half across the world to fight in a war, leaving me alone here when we were supposed to get married." Now that the words were sinking in, her shock was replaced with anger.

Finn withdrew his hand and scratched at the back of his neck. He ducked his head and looked away in remorse and Quinn felt vindicated. He should feel remorse. They'd had a plan and now he'd gone and changed it. "Quinn, don't be like that."

Quinn's eyes widened and she pulled her cardigan tightly around her body defensively. "How else am I meant to feel, Finn Hudson? You promised me a ring and a wedding in a little white chapel where my grandfather would preside. Now you're going off to fight in a war for God knows how long." She threw her hands up in exasperation. It was the only thing she could do to keep from striking his face.

"And we'll still have all of those things. It will just be when I come back." Finn turned his body towards her and reached out, tilting her chin until she had no choice but to look at him. "I'll come back and we'll get married and I'll buy us a house down the street from my ma and we'll have a house full of babies," he said, giving her that boyish grin that always made her melt. He shifted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her carefully as if he was still a little afraid she'd hit him. "What do you say to that? I'll come back and get us a house..."

Her resolve was already crumbling, much to her chagrin. She didn't want him to leave, but there was an appeal to the picture he so clearly painted. A house with a nice white fence and children with his hair and her smile. They'd have the perfect life. "And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" She questioned, ignoring the way his eyes lit up.

"Well, you've been talking about wanting to go to college, right?"


	2. Chapter 1

**September 1966**

Her parents had fought the whole drive to Oberlin and now her mother stood by the car, practically sobbing about her youngest child leaving the nest. She pulled Quinn into a tight hug and the girl sent her father a panicked look. Chuckling, Russell Fabray set his hands on his wife's shoulders and tugged. "Now, now Judy, there's no need to make a scene. Quinn will be home for Thanksgiving in no time. Isn't that right, Quinnie?" Her father looked over at her with a wink and Quinn smiled.

"Right Mother, I'll be home in a few short weeks. You needn't be so worried. I'm sure I'll be bored out of my mind in a matter of hours. Thank Heavens I have Finn to write to." Quinn's smile faltered at the mention of her boyfriend. Finn had been gone for three months, but he wasn't overseas just yet. No, he was stationed someplace in Nebraska and chronically complained about not being someplace warmer. She wished he were here with her now because her nerves were all jumbled and he always made her feel so calm, unlike her parents.

In fact, Quinn was kind of anxious for them to leave. She'd never been on her own before, but there was an odd sense of freedom that had started to settle over her, one that spoke of new adventures and an exciting life. So, with one last kiss pressed to her mother's pale cheek and hug for her father, Quinn lifted her two suitcases and headed towards her dorm.

The campus was huge, a lot bigger than her high school, and the weather was unseasonably warm even for September. Quinn was starting to regret the decision to wear her new overcoat instead of packing it, but her mother had insisted. Luckily her building wasn't very far and there were bright balloons and a welcome banner outside.  
Girls close to her age milled about outside with their parents and Quinn was happy her parents had left. She managed to get her suitcases inside of the door and paused at the desk.

"Name?" A girl with curly red hair and unfortunate pale skin asked.

"Um, Quinn Fabray," the blonde replied, clearing her throat. She glanced at the girl's name tag and saw that she was called "Betty." Quinn snottily thought it was a name that suited her. She'd never once met a Betty that she liked.

"Oh there you are," Betty answered, handing Quinn a key with a giant number seven and a letter "B" on it. "You live on the second floor, 'B' side in number seven. Think you can remember that?"

Quinn forced herself to smile brightly. "I have no problems with my memory. I managed to make it to college, haven't I?"

Betty's smile turned tight and she looked back down at her paper. "Good. Go on then."

Girls moved up and down the stairs quickly as Quinn made her way down the hall to room number seven. There was a yellow star cut out of construction paper on the door and the name "Rachel" was handwritten on it. It seemed her roommate was already there.

Quinn dropped the bag in her right hand and used the key Betty had given her to open the door. She stepped inside, immediately moving to the bed on the right because it was the only free space available.

Hazel eyes scanned the mess of boxes and personal effects strewn about. She and Frannie had shared a room before Frannie had married Bill. So, Quinn wasn't a stranger to sharing. She'd just never imagined her roommate wouldn't be...well...neat.

"Oh!" A voice exclaimed, causing Quinn to glance over to the open closet doors. A girl shorter than herself with shiny dark brown hair and olive skin emerged. She was wearing a dark cardigan over a white blouse and a tartan skirt. Her knee highs were pristine white and she had worn saddle shoes. "Hi! You're my roommate. I'm sorry for the mess, but I thought I'd have more time to unpack. You must think me uncouth."

The blonde stood and shed her jacket, the warmth finally getting to her. She wasn't certain what to make of this new person. She already talked more than Quinn cared for and she was messy. "Yes well, I'm here now."

A blush crept the girl's face and she nodded, taking a step forward. "I'm Rachel Berry." She stuck out her hand and looked at Quinn expectantly.

"I'm Quinn Fabray," the blonde replied, taking the proffered hand. She looked around at the girl's mess again and then back at the girl.

"Oh yes, if you will just give me a moment, I will have all of this out of your way. Then you can bring in your things." Rachel kicked at one of the boxes with her foot, pushing it out of the way.

Quinn turned back to the two suitcases. "Those are my things." She hadn't seen the point in packing everything up when it was much safer at her home.

Rachel's dark eyes followed the same path and she looked surprised. "Is that all you brought? Doesn't seem like much."

"Well, I have plenty of clothing and there's a laundry facility. Plus my two favorite books. What more do I need?" Quinn countered, crossing her arms.

"I don't know. What about pictures and posters and things that remind you of home?" Rachel didn't seem intimidated by the question or Quinn herself, something the blonde was not used to at all.

Quinn rolled her eyes and moved back to her bed. She lifted her suitcase onto it and started to unpack. "I have pictures with me, but I have to admit I don't watch many television programs and my things will always remind me of home. So, why should I bring clutter?"

Rachel's quick answers seemed to have petered out and as Quinn turned to her with a smirk. The other girl was standing on her bed, taping a huge poster of a woman Quinn thought looked vaguely familiar.

"What in Heaven's name is that?" Quinn asked, mildly startled by the sheer size of it.

The brunette's eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. "It's Barbra Streisand. How can you even ask such a question?"

-

**October 1966**

It wasn't hard to settle into life at university Quinn found. It had been a culture shock, being surrounded by so many different people. Women and men of all races and backgrounds. Her own roommate was Jewish, something her mother and father found scandalous. She'd had to promise her mother she was indeed still attending services at the campus chapel during their weekly phone calls.

"Quinn!" The sound of her voice shouted across the room caused her to look up. She watched a slightly disheveled Rachel running, towards the table, bumping into a group of boys that'd been standing around passing a tiny ball between them with their feet and bodies. She paused a moment to apologize, Quinn had no doubt, and then made her way over to the table where her blonde roommate sat. "I'm sorry I'm so late. Professor Anders kept us longer than anticipated. She was teaching us the art of movement." Rachel shed her woolen coat, placing it on the seat she was standing behind and then pulled out the chair, plopping down.

Quinn often wondered how Rachel could be so wild. Quinn and her sister had never been permitted to run indoors and their hair was to be perfectly groomed and their clothing in pristine condition. Years of charm school had prepared Quinn to be the perfect wife and mother. She wondered at what kind of mother Rachel had. Perhaps she found Rachel as exasperating as Quinn did at times.

"It's okay, Rachel. Just, do you have to shout my name across the room like that? And didn't anyone ever teach you not to run indoors?" Quinn hissed, looking around to see if anyone had noticed them.

Rachel frowned a little, some of the joy leaving her expression. "Gee Quinn, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just excited to see that you hadn't left without me." She brushed her hair back from her face and sat up straight.

"Yes, but proper young ladies do not shout across the room. They certainly don't run indoors." Really, Rachel should know these things by now. They were practically mature women.

"No offense, Quinn, but I think you're idea of a proper woman is quite boring. Professor Anders says to truly act, we must become who we are. We can't let society tell us who we are meant to be. We should decide for ourselves," Rachel countered in a defensive manner.

Quinn made a face. She knew that Oberlin was a very liberal school, but surely women didn't really believe that. They had a role to play in life. Wife and mother and for those women who couldn't be either, a workforce job as a secretary or librarian. "She sounds like one of those women my mother and the ladies from her bridge game talk about. The ones that don't wear bras or shave."

Rachel shook her head. "Professor Anders isn't like that at all. She's just spirited. That's what my father calls it. You know, it's okay to have different ideas, Quinn. It's what makes us special."

"Hey Quinn," the voice interrupted her before she had a chance to respond to Rachel. She glanced up and smiled when she saw a blond boy with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Hi Sam," she greeted with a bright smile. Sam Evans was in her English class. He wasn't very good as far as she could tell, but he sat close to her any time he could and smiled whenever they passed each other on campus. He was very handsome, even if his hair was a tad too long and he wore the loose shirts of the other guys on campus.  
"A few friends and I are going to go play guitars out on the quad. I was wondering if you'd like to join us." He glanced over at Rachel as if noticing her sitting there as well. "Oh you can come too. The more the merrier."

Rachel smiled shyly at that, ducking her head as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Quinn didn't know what to make of that, but she didn't dwell on the action. "That's a really sweet offer, Sam, but I just don't have the time. I have to finish four different chapters for my classes. I was planning to head back right after dinner."

Sam looked disappointed, but he nodded all the same. "Perhaps some other time," he said to both of them, quickly turning on his heels and walking away.

"You're so lucky," Rachel bemoaned, leaning on her hand as she watched Sam walk off with his friends. .

"I am? What's got you so blue all of a sudden?" Quinn asked, taking a bit of her apple.

Rachel sighed and shifted in her seat. "You have a handsome guy off in some exotic place and the guys here can't keep their eyes off of you." She looked down at herself. "Standing next to you, I can't compete."

"It's not a competition. My mother said some girls are just late bloomers. Of course, I'm sure Professor Anders would disagree, but if you insist on believing the foolishness she's feeding you then you should take your own advice. You're destined to be the next Barbra Streisand, right? That's what you're always telling me." Quinn wasn't sure what to make of Rachel's aspirations to be an actress, but the girl seemed determined enough. "Though I can assure you she does not shout across the room nor run inside. I'm also certain she isn't waiting around on a Friday night. She can have any leading man she wants." The blonde actually had no idea if that was true, but it seemed to get Rachel out of her rut. "So how does she get a guy she likes to notice her?"

"You're right! Quinn, you're the best friend a girl could have. I just have to be like Barbra." Rachel sat her hands down on the table and looked up at the blonde.

Quinn didn't think that was quite what she'd said, but she was content for the topic of conversation to be over. She turned back to her to her tray and cut into her salisbury steak. It wasn't as good as her mother's, but it was pretty good.

Rachel eventually stood and retrieved her own dinner. She returned moments later with her kosher meal that she insisted on every night. Quinn wasn't really certain what made a meal kosher or not kosher, but she also wasn't Jewish. So, she didn't think she needed to worry. The meals never looked all that appetizing anyway. "So, there's a new club on campus. It's supposed to be for women only. Emily Sabrego from my acting class said it's going to be a lot of fun."

Quinn hadn't been expecting Rachel to speak. Usually supper time was the only part of the day in which she didn't talk a mile a minute. "Well, if you want to go Rachel, I don't see why you shouldn't." The blonde replied primly, more out of habit than anything else, scooped applesauce onto her spoon and brought it to her lips. The room was buzzing with people and she glanced around distractedly.

Rachel nodded slowly and let out a breath. "I was thinking we could maybe join together. We're basically each other's only friends and it would be good to get out and meet people. Be like Barbra."

Quinn had a feeling those words were going to haunt her. "Barbra isn't my inspiration," she countered, feeling slight apprehension at the growing determination on Rachel's face.

"Barbra is everyone's inspiration, Quinn."

-

"_Is THAT ALL?"_

The crowd of some twenty women cheered as a woman wearing jeans that flared out drastically at the bottom and a long flowing white blouse spoke loudly. Her arms moved excitedly and her blonde hair was curly and wild.

"How long will we be content to not be seen as equals just because God put us in these beautiful bodies? Are we not as capable as men?"

"YES!" The girls shouted.

"While our men are off fighting the white man's war, who fills in their jobs? Who takes care of their homes? We do!" There was another round of applause and Quinn had to fight back rolling her eyes. "Women have stepped up for years and do they thank us? Do they pay us the same wages? Do they give us equal rights?" The blonde questioned, her eyes sweeping the room of women.

"NO!"

Quinn glanced over with wide eyes as Rachel chimed in with the rest of the girls. Surely her roommate didn't believe this rubbish. A woman's place was at home with the children. Quinn had been taught that her whole life. The only acceptable reasons for women to be in the workplace were spinsterhood and being a widow.

She flicked at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt and bit back her disdain. These women were delusional. She turned over the flyer she held in her hand and frowned. This was nothing more than propaganda meant to attack strong family values. She needed to leave. This wasn't the place for her. She bent down to retrieve her books, tuning out the rest of what was being said. She didn't need to hear anymore.

"You're going?" Rachel asked, her dark eyes wide in surprise. She touched Quinn's arm as if she meant to make her stay, but Quinn brushed her off.

"I am and so should you before they...brainwash you," Quinn whispered loudly, throwing her hands up in the air. Her mary janes scuffed the floor as she moved to stand, nearly tripping over a girl sitting nearby.

Rachel looked affronted. There was a protest in her eyes even before she began to speak. "This isn't brainwashing. This is...it's truth, Quinn. It's what society, which is run primarily by men, I might add, doesn't want us to know. Don't you want to know the truth?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and stood. She looked down at Rachel, her disappointment and disapproval clear on her face. "This isn't truth, Rachel. This is...it's just blatant disrespect. It's an attack against God and families. If God wanted these things for us, he wouldn't have made marriage!"

"Yes, well God made man and man is imperfect. You don't think that maybe man got this part wrong? As far as I knew, God made both man and woman in His image. If God thinks we're equal, don't you think we should too?" Rachel's eyes were bright, glittering with anger.

"There is just no reasoning with you is there, Rachel Berry? You can stay if you want, but I am leaving." Quinn didn't like the way Rachel's words made her mind race with questions she had no answers for. She huffed, shrugging into her jacket and headed towards the door.

A book appeared before her and she skidded to a stop looking down at it. She glanced to her left and saw and girl with hair as dark as Rachel but skin pale as the moonlight. Her eyes were an unusual shade of gray and Quinn found herself unable to look anywhere else. "Sister, take this book. It will change your life. No longer will you be cast in the shadows of night. Here you will find truth in the sun."

Quinn took the proffered book and looked down at it. It had a simple red cover, it's title embossed gold letters. _The Feminine Mystique_. It seemed strange and heavy in her hand, and she glanced back up at the girl. She smiled reassuringly and Quinn mumbled a quick word of thanks before rushing off.

-

**November 1966**

_Freud's mother was the pretty, docile bride of a man twice her age; his father ruled the family with an autocratic authority traditional in Jewish families during those centuries of persecution when the fathers were seldom able to establish authority in the outside world. His mother adored the young Sigmund, her first son, and thought him mystically destined for greatness; she seemed to exist only to gratify his every wish. His own memories of the sexual jealousy he felt for his father, whose wishes she also gratified, were the basis of his theory of the Oedipus complex. With his wife, as with his mother and sisters, his needs, his desires, his wishes, were the sun around which the household revolved. When the noise of his sisters' practising the piano interrupted his studies, 'the piano disappeared,' Anna Freud recalled years later, 'and with it all opportunities for his sisters to become musicians.'_

Freud did not see this attitude as a problem, or cause for any problem, in women. It was woman's nature to be ruled by man and her sickness to envy him. Freud's letters to Martha, his future wife, written during the four years of their engagement (1882-6) have the fond, patronising sound of Torvald in A Doll's House, scolding Nora for her pretenses at being human. Freud was beginning to probe the secrets of the human brain in the laboratory at Vienna; Martha was to wait, his 'sweet child', in her mother's custody for four years, until he could come and fetch her. From these letters one can see that to him her identity was defined as child-housewife, even when she was no longer a child and not yet a housewife.

Quinn looked up from the book, her mind reeling with thoughts of her own household. Her mother's sole purpose in life was to please her father. She only made meals that he enjoyed and if she tried something new, and he didn't like it, she never made it again. She wanted to cut her hair and he told her no. So she didn't. Frannie and Quinn were also expected to cater to their father. He had to approve of every single aspect of their lives. Quinn's mind screamed "_why?"_

The only answer she could come up with was "because that's how things were supposed to be."

-

Quinn felt like she was walking around with her head in the clouds for weeks. She still went to classes dutifully and got good grades on her tests, but she was beginning to wonder why. The next time there was a rally on campus, (she knew because of Rachel's calendar that hung up across the room) she came in late and stood at the very back. Only this time she listened, taking to heart what the enthusiastic girl on stage said.

_Did all she want for her life to reflect when she died was that she was a good wife and mother?_

-

"_You can't hurry love, no you just have to wait. They say love don't come easy. It's a game of give and take."_

Quinn sat her book aside and regarded her roommate as she had been all week. She wondered what Rachel's childhood had been like. What was her mother like? It was strange because Rachel was open about everything else, but she never spoke about home outside of mentioning her father and an uncle occasionally.

The girl was spinning around and dancing, singing into a hairbrush as she was prone to do. Though, Quinn didn't mind because Rachel's voice was one of the best that Quinn had ever heard. She also really loved this song. "Negro music" was banned from her house, but it was one of the few rules her mother actually disobeyed. When her father was at work or out playing golf with his colleagues, Judy would crank up the Supremes or any number of the other Motown artists and she and the girls would sing along.

But this wasn't the time for singing and Quinn cleared her throat, tilting her head to the side. "Rachel?" She said loud enough to be heard over the music. The girl whipped around and looked at her, a sheepish grin on her face.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. Did I disturb your reading? My father says sometimes I'm up in the stars when I sing. I guess that's true." Rachel rushed to the radio and turned it down, holding up her hand in apology.

"No, no, it's not that. I was just wondering...why you never talk about your mother." Quinn shifted on her bed and recrossed her legs at the ankle. Her right bobby sock slid down, but she didn't bother with it.

A strange expression crossed the brunette's usually open expression and she sat down on her bed. She fiddled with her hands nervously, something Quinn was also not used to seeing. It piqued her interest. "I suppose," Rachel started, still not looking at the blonde. "I suppose it's because I never knew my mother. She died while in childbirth with me."

Quinn held in her gasp. She knew those types of things happened, but she'd never known anyone personally. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. Do you know what happened?"

Rachel nodded and looked away towards the window. It was just starting to get dark and she shivered as if she were outside. "They-they wouldn't let my father in the hospital. It was whites only and he is a colored man. So even though she was in labor and even though I was practically coming out of her, they had to drive thirty minutes across town to the colored hospital." The girl paused and took a shuddered breath. "There was an infection and the colored hospitals they didn't...they didn't have the same sorts of medicines and equipment that other hospitals do."

Nodding, Quinn looked down at her lap. She'd never realized Rachel was colored. She'd just thought it was her Jewish complexion. Her father had always warned her against getting too close to colored people, but she couldn't look at Rachel and see any differences between them besides their parentage.

"My mother was a beautiful singer. She wanted to be an actress just like me, but she fell in love and well...it's funny how life works out, you know?" Rachel said softly.

Quinn glanced over at the picture beside Rachel's bed. She'd always assumed the handsome man with the brown skin was just another one of the actors Rachel liked, but now she could see the resemblance. "Is that your father?" She asked, standing and moving towards Rachel's pictures. She had them lined up on a shelf.

Rachel gave her a tearful smile and nodded. "Yes, he's handsome isn't he?"

He was handsome indeed, Quinn agreed. She picked up a few other pictures and lingered on the one of her father and another man leaning in towards one another. The man was white and taller. He kind of looked like Rachel as well, but it was somehow different. "Who is this man with your father, Rachel?"

There was another strange look on Rachel's face, a fearful one that gave Quinn pause. "That's my father's...companion, Uncle Hiram. He's my mother's brother and he came to live with us when I was two-years-old. He was only supposed to stay until I was old enough to go to school, but he and Daddy fell in love."

Quinn's eyes went impossibly wide and she looked down at Rachel. "In _love_? Your father is a...he's one of those men?" She hastily sat the picture down and moved away from Rachel, putting some distance between them.

She could see the defiant light in Rachel's eyes was back and she folded her arms. "My father said love is love. That love is never wrong."

"The Bible said that man shall not lay with man as he does a woman," Quinn quoted, feeling sick to her stomach at just the idea of it. "God said that sort of love is...it's an abomination."

Rachel stood and held her fists down at her sides. "The Bible also said that it is okay to sell your daughter into slavery and that it's not okay to grow two crops in the same fields. And the last time I checked, you eat bacon nearly everyday, Quinn. That is also an abomination. So is mixing meat and dairy. Do not throw my people's laws in my face." She spun on the heels of her saddle shoes and stormed out of the room.

Quinn watched after her, any argument she had dying in the her throat.

-

Thanksgiving was always a big affair at the Fabray house. Relatives from all over Ohio came to eat and Quinn and her mother and sister would spend all day in the kitchen while her father sat in his chair and spoke to the men in her family. This year that fact upset Quinn.

Why did her father get to sit around while the women were expected to make a grand dinner? This year, Frannie's husband was also in attendance and she bristled at the way her sister practically babied him. He never had to lift a single finger, not even to get his own scotch. Would this be like that when Quinn married Finn? He was off fighting in the war now. So, his letters had all but stopped in the last few weeks.

It was just as well because her feelings were a jumbled mess most of the time and she didn't know how to talk to him about them. He wouldn't understand. He'd tell her she was being silly the way her mother had when she'd questioned why she wouldn't cut her hair simply because her father wouldn't like it.

Her family members politely asked her about college, but she knew they weren't interested. They expected she would be in college until Finn returned from the war. They thought he was brave and that she would be lucky when he was home and they were married. College would be just a memory of something she did to pass the time, like knitting a blanket or learning how to make a new souffle.

All of those expectations that Quinn had even once had for herself now angered her and she stopped listening once they'd started poking at Frannie about having children. The turkey was brought to the table and her father made a big speech about carving it. Quinn had heard the speech nearly every year of her life. So, she didn't bother listening to that either. There was just one thought that seemed to plague her mind.

Who carved the turkey at Rachel's house?

-

**December 1966**

December brought more snow than November and though they were cozy inside, the radiator did nothing to thaw the iciness of Rachel demeanor. She was cordial to Quinn, almost too polite, the very definition of a proper young lady. And Quinn hated it.

She missed Rachel's incessant chatter and singing. Her random thoughts on philosophical dilemmas and which Beatle Quinn thought was the dreamiest (Rachel said John. Quinn liked Paul). She missed having someone to share meals with. Sure she'd started dining with her new friends, but dinner had kind of always been her and Rachel's. And now the girl sat with her theater friends and didn't come back to the dorms until curfew, where she promptly went to sleep with a brusque "goodnight" and her back to the other side of the room.

She missed her friend and with all of the confusing thoughts swirling around her brain, she missed having someone to share ideas with. Rachel, she had no doubt, would really understand how much she felt like she was changing, but Rachel wasn't speaking to her.

Quinn felt terrible and she didn't know how fix it. She wondered if a simple apology would do the trick. All of the books she'd ever read about proper decorum said that a sincere, heartfelt apology for one's social faux pas would do the trick.

She'd just never been particularly good at apologizing.

-

Finals forced Rachel to remain in their room to study. She hated the quiet of the library she'd once said and every other place was far too distracting. Quinn had no such problem, but she decided she'd had enough of the silence.

The brunette lay on her stomach on her pink comforter, twirling her pen. She was humming quietly to the song on the radio and everytime Quinn would shift, her shoulders would stiffen. Quinn sighed and looked back down at her science book.

"What are you studying?" She inquired casually.

Rachel's pen froze, but she didn't look over. "Math."

"Is that a new sweater?"

"No," Rachel replied evenly.

"Who's the boy you've been sitting with everyday at lunch?"

"His name is Kurt." The other girl rolled to a sitting position and frowned when she looked over at Quinn. "Is there something you really need, Quinn? I'm trying to study for a very important test."

The blonde sighed. Rachel wasn't going to make this easy. "I just-" The words lodged in her throat, but she needed to force them out. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I said those awful things to you before break. I feel just terrible about it."

Curious brown eyes met hers, but her expression was unreadable. "Do you still think my father is loathsome?"

It was a test. Quinn knew it was and something in her fought to say that she did still think it was wrong. But she'd thought about it a lot over the last few weeks and she'd even read a few books about it in the library late one night when no one else was around. It had made her think, just like everything else lately. Maybe her parents had been completely wrong. Maybe they'd lied to her all along. "No, I don't."

Rachel seemed relieved almost and she smiled a little, rising her feet. Her shoes squeaked the floor as she crossed the room and she hugged Quinn tightly. "Apology accepted. I was starting to believe I'd been wrong about us being lifelong friends."

Quinn did her best not to stiffen at the embrace. It wasn't that she didn't welcome it. She just struggled a lot with physical contact. She patted Rachel's back lightly and then pulled away. She felt like a burden had been lifted and she was grateful.

"Now, are you going to tell me about the new guy in your life?" Quinn had been admittedly curious about the boy with the pale skin and perfect hair. "I've been dying to ask about your new boyfriend."

Her roommate looked a little amused and shrugged her shoulders. "Kurt's not my boyfriend, Quinn. He'd very much like a boyfriend of his own someday."

Blinking, Quinn digested the information. "Oh...well please tell him I wish him luck on his endeavor."

-

Christmas was a lot like Thanksgiving for Quinn. She and Rachel had exchanged addresses so that they could write each other over the break, but Quinn missed her and their tiny room almost as soon as she stepped into the foyer of her home.

All of the traditions that were once her favorite part of the season now made her question how they even came about in the first place. Did her mother really enjoy having to wrap all of the presents by herself. And why did she have to cancel her bridge game just because her father didn't wish to have company that evening?

Finn's letter arrived her second day home. He wished her a Merry Christmas and sent her a picture of flower he'd bought from a local merchant. He spoke of Vietnam being unlike any other place they'd ever seen and said that he loved her and thought of her everyday. The last part made Quinn feel guilty. She missed him terribly, but she'd been thinking about him less and less as she made new friends and was seeing the real truth for the first time. It was starting to feel more and more like Finn didn't have a place in her new world.

When her father made a joke during Christmas dinner about women being dumber than men, Quinn stood up and left the table.

-

**February 1966**

Sam asked Quinn out for Valentine's Day. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it coming. She knew when a boy liked her. She just had never thought of her answer.

She gave him a sympathetic smile and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Sam. I have a boyfriend." He took it well and said he understood. She was grateful he wasn't upset, but she felt something strange in the pit of her stomach. When had those words stopped feeling true?


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: First, I'm going to say thank you to all of the reviews I received because it's just nice to hear what you folks like and don't like. But I want to address the sort of common comments I got. One: Santana is in this chapter, but I did preface the fic by saying it's Quinn-centric. I did that for a reason. Santana wasn't in the first part and as wonderful as it would have been to kind of throw her in there, I couldn't. That's not how this story is going to be told. I do VERY much appreciate that you even read it, lacking Santana. I just wanted to address that. Second: As for Quinn's sort of accepting things too quickly, I absolutely see what you're saying, but at the same time, it takes so little to open a person up to a whole new world. It's how a lot of us even got into fandom or shipping a certain ship. One comment...one fic and you're thinking "I never considered that!" Or "Quinn does stare at Santana's ass a lot in canon." You also have to take into consideration the time period and cannot apply modern logic to how Quinn thinks. There was no information super highway, no instances in her life prior to college that challenged anything she'd been taught. But it's still just happening AROUND her moreso than to her.**

**I'm not at all being defensive. I'm just giving you a glimpse into how I viewed things as a I wrote. I hope it clarified some things and I hope you will keep telling me what your thoughts are. **

* * *

**March 1967**

Rachel spoke animatedly about the upcoming spring musical as they walked across the campus. Her spring semester of classes weren't nearly as hard or perhaps she'd just adjusted to the amount of work. Quinn wasn't certain, but it felt like she had more time to just enjoy taking walks. Rachel sometimes joined her, like today, but usually it was done alone and she used it as a time to reflect. She felt like she had a new level of consciousness and found herself a lot more pensive than before, which was saying something for her.

"Hey, Quinn," Sam greeted, cutting through the tale Rachel had been sharing. There was another guy with him, one Quinn had never seen before. He was older than them all by at least a year or two. He had stubble along his angular jaw and he was looking directly at her with these intense hazel eyes. "-and this is my friend Noah, but everyone just calls him-"

"Puck," the other boy said, answering before Sam could and smirking at the blonde in a way that made her cheeks warm. His hair was a brown mess of shaggy waves that curled into a sort of afro that Quinn found utterly ridiculous, but somehow suited him.

"Puck?" Quinn repeated and looked away from him. She blinked a few times and glared at the knowing smile on Rachel's face.

The brunette held her hand out to him. "It's nice to meet you, Noah." She smiled even brighter and stood a little straighter next to her roommate.

"Hey, cool it with the Noah stuff. It's Puck...short for Puckerman, got it?" Puck corrected, looking around as if someone was trying to snake him.

"Puckerman? Are you Jewish?" Rachel asked, her excitement barely contained.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" He asked defensively and crossed his arms over his chest.

Rachel looked taken aback. "I didn't mean anything by it. It's just...so am I and I haven't met very many on campus."

Puck let his hands drop and smiled. "Gee, I shoulda known. You've definitely got the looks." He offered his arm to her in an exaggerated fashion. "Allow me to escort my fellow Jew to the cafeteria?"

With wide brown eyes, Rachel looked back at Quinn and then Sam, stammering. "Um...sure?" She took his arm and they began walking in the other direction. "I'll see you later, Quinn." Rachel gave her one last look and then turned away.

The blonde had a moment of panic as she watched her roommate walking away. "Be careful, Rachel!" She called back, glancing at Sam. "Is she going to be safe?"

"Yeah, Puck's totally safe. I mean mostly safe. I mean well girls like him a whole lot, if you know what I mean." Sam's face flushed and he scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm sure Rachel will be fine."

"Sam! Go with them and keep her from...being one of those girls that likes him a whole lot." Quinn frowned at those words. It wasn't the job of males to keep women safe. Hadn't she just been reading about that? Women were capable of taking care of themselves. They were as strong and competent as men. She glanced in the direction Rachel and Puck had just taken and sighed. "Or just...go with them and keep an eye on her."

Nodding, Sam waved and gave chase after them. He was a really good guy and Quinn was happy they were friends.

-

Later that evening when Rachel returned from her rehearsal, she was all smiles and talking about how amazing Noah was. Quinn worried the other girl was definitely going to become one of those girls. She tried not to cringe, tried to remind herself that it was Rachel's life. It just made her a little uneasy.

"Noah invited me to a St. Patrick's Day party. Well, he told me to bring you as well." Rachel smirked over at her and readied for bed. "I think he likes you."

Quinn ignored the feeling in her stomach at those words. She made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement but didn't look up from her textbook.

-

The party was already in full swing by the time she and Rachel arrived. Puck had given them the address to an apartment that was about a fifteen minute walk from campus. It was just as well since she and Rachel didn't have access to a car and the buses into town stopped running after seven.

The apartment was larger than any Quinn had seen, which admittedly weren't many. There weren't any near where she lived in Findlay proper. But even with all of the people milling about she could tell it was a massive space. There was also a pungent odor wafting through the entire place and she coughed a little at the cloud of smoke that gave the entire place a kind of haze.

She looked to her right and Rachel was already shedding her coat, revealing a lime green dress with white flowers and fell, what Quinn thought was a dangerously short length, mid-thigh and wasn't at all like anything Rachel usually wore.

Sam came over and greeted them, shouting over the loud music. He leaned in and whispered something to Rachel and she handed him her coat. He looked over at Quinn expectantly and she quickly unbuttoned her own, handing it to him. Her green dress was pressed and the appropriate length, but she felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb among the others in their modern fare. Even Rachel, with her thick eye makeup, was blending in. She followed behind Sam and Quinn behind her until a train of people broke between them and she lost sight.

Quinn moved to what she guessed was the living room given the two couches and the people dancing in the middle of the floor. Though, it was more like bodies writhing together than actual moving. The odor was stronger in here and she watched people passing around what looked like a homemade cigarette, but it definitely didn't smell like that. Frannie used to sneak cigarettes in their room when she'd been in high school. Quinn knew the difference.

She found a spot on the couch and sat down, smoothing her dress. She watched the crowd moving, body upon body. Guys next to girls next to other girls and guys kissing in the middle of the floor. Despite living with Rachel and being friends with Kurt, she'd yet to see anything like that. How could they just do this in the open without a care? What if someone they knew saw?

"Peace offering, sister," a tall man with dark brown skin and a big afro said, holding out a "cigarette" to Quinn.

The blonde shook her head. "I don't smoke. No thank you."

The man looked surprised. "This right here is the finest sweet lucy around. It'll open up your mind." His tone was mellow and he kind of swayed as he spoke.

Quinn wondered if it was how he naturally was or if it was whatever he was smoking. She shook her head again and gave him a nice smile for good measure. With a shrug he wandered away and Quinn let out a sigh of relief. Her head was starting to feel a little cloudy as she continued to sit there and when someone handed her a brownie, she happily took it. She finished it quickly, ignoring the somewhat odd taste.

_"I was five and he was six. We rode on the horses made of sticks. He wore black and I wore white. He would always win the fight. Bang, bang...he shot me down. Bang, bang I hit the ground...bang, bang that awful sound. Bang, bang...my baby shot me down." _

The music slowed and someone brought out a guitar. The bodies in front of her sat down and she realized it was Puck strumming along, but the voice was what caught her attention. It was unlike any she'd ever heard. So different, smokey and silky at the same time. It was a stark contrast to spending months listening to Rachel's voice. A girl with long blonde hair sat in a guys lap and Quinn could see who was singing. She was unlike any girl Quinn had ever seen.

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in thick waves was held back by a thick white headband. Her skin was a warm, caramel color and her thin body was barely covered by a shirt that revealed a bit of her midriff and a skirt that was shorter than Rachel's dress. It was both appalling and intriguing and Quinn couldn't look away.

The girl's eyes opened and found Quinn's across the room. Her head swam and she felt surrounded by the sound of the girl's voice. She had a smug look about her that made Quinn bristle even in the sight of her tiny smile. The people around them seemed enraptured, but Quinn barely noticed them. It felt like the girl was singing only to her and the words drifted through her ears and over her body, making her feel calm and dizzy, like she needed to lay down, but she was already blonde forced her eyes away and didn't clap along with the rest of the group when the song ended.

"Hey, why're you sitting here all alone?" Puck asked as the group moved back to dancing. She hadn't even noticed his approach. Had he been standing there long? It was as if she no longer had a concept of time. She felt so odd. She looked up at him, relieved to see a familiar face even if it was Puck's.

"I don't know where Rachel's gone," she admitted but her voice sounded foreign to her own ears and she frowned. "Who was that girl?"

Puck looked around then back at her. "What? You mean the girl that was singing?" Quinn nodded and tilted her head to the side to see if she could catch sight of the girl. "That's Santana," he answered as if Quinn should know who that was. But before she could ask him anything further he held out his hand. "Dance with me."

Quinn shook her head. "I don't dance like that."

"That's okay. I'll show you." Puck reached down and tugged her hand until she was standing. He led her to the middle and gripped her hips.

Leaning in, Quinn spoke into his ear. "I can't dance with you like this. I have a boyfriend."

She could feel Puck's laughter as he pulled her body even closer. "They always do. And where is this boyfriend?" He questioned, his hips sort of rocking against her in a hypnotic fashion.

"He's fighting in the war." Quinn couldn't find whatever rhythm he was dancing, but she found comfort in the pattern.

"Of course he is," Puck mumbled against the skin of her neck. She wanted to pull away, but her body felt heavy with movement. She managed to spot Rachel and Sam and frowned at the sight of them kissing like she'd seen the boys on the floor doing earlier. She didn't know Rachel and Sam kissed like that and why didn't Rachel tell her?

She didn't have time to dwell because Puck spun her around and she caught sight of the girl, Santana, standing there. She looked mad, glaring directly at Quinn and Puck as they moved along the floor.

-

Quinn woke with a start, shooting straight up from where she'd fallen asleep. Had she fallen asleep on a couch? Why was she on a couch?

"Oh good, you're not actually dead," a voice to her right deadpanned. She looked over and saw the singer from last night.

Had that been a dream? What she still dreaming? "Where am I? Where's Puck?"

The girl, Quinn tried to remember her name, rolled her eyes and set her bowl of cereal down on the end table. She stood up from the arm of the couch she'd been occupying and stretched. Her legs seemed long in the shorts she was wearing and her top was one of those flowy ones Quinn had seen some of the girls on campus wearing. "Right. Well, you're in my apartment and the lady killer is passed out in my bed. Sorry," she said, though the smile on her face was anything but.

"Oh!" Quinn said with frown. She didn't know what to make of that. She couldn't remember much the night after dancing with Puck. She looked down at herself and saw she was still fully clothed. That was good. She'd heard the stories of the not so nice things that sometimes happened to girls at parties.

"Yeah, that tends to happen sometimes." The girl shrugged and reached for her bowl again.

The door to the apartment swung open and Rachel and Sam tumbled in laughing. Rachel's eyes went wide and she raced over to the couch and sat down. "Oh good you're up finally.'

"Finally? And why did you leave me alone here?" Quinn hissed her annoyance rising when she saw Sam's guilty look.

"Well gosh, Quinn, you just looked so peaceful sleeping and Santana told us where to get some breakfast items. So, we just ran down the street to the store. I didn't think you'd want to be woken up." Rachel sighed, looking contrite.

Rachel was a good roommate like that, always looking out for her and Quinn felt guilty for snapping at her. "Thanks for not waking me, but next time don't leave me alone with strangers," she mumbled and smiled so that the other girl knew she wasn't actually mad.

"I brought you back a bagel with cream cheese, just the way you like it." Rachel motioned for Sam to bring her the bag. He walked over with a goofy grin on his face and Quinn remembered seeing them kiss the night before. She cocked an eyebrow at Rachel, who blushed and looked away. She smiled, truly happy for the girl, but she was definitely going to be asking her a lot of questions when they got back to their room.

"Do I smell bagels?" Puck asked, walking into the room in nothing but his jeans which were unbuttoned. He smirked over at Quinn winking and the blonde felt her own cheeks flush.

"No ya pendejo, how can you _smell_ a bagel?" Santana questioned, her hand smacking his arm.

"It's a heightened sense of smell. That's why Jews got such big noses," he called back at her when she headed into what Quinn assumed was the kitchen.

Rachel looked up at Sam and frowned, touching her nose. "Do you think my nose is big?"

-  
"No way, man! Ben Cartwright would totally win in a gunfight. He'd have his out of his sling before Matt Dillon could even reach for his." Sam was lounging across the couch, his head in Rachel's lap as she played with his hair.

"The show is called _Gunsmoke_. Lay off the grass, my brother. You have don't know what you're talking about."

Quinn rolled her eyes and went back to reading this book one of the girls at the rally had given her._SCUM Manifesto_ was underground literature and a lot more radical than anything she'd read prior to it. It was a little extreme for her taste, but it had some interesting points, Quinn thought. And it beat listening to the guys arguing over who would win in a Western brawl.

"Quinn, who do you think would win?"

The question ripped right through her thoughts and she glanced up at them, trying not to be annoyed. "I'm sorry, I don't watch much television." It was politer than what she wanted to say, but she didn't want to start a fight. She just wanted to read her book.

"Boys, remember Quinn doesn't have time. When else is she going to find the time to learn to bake pies and so on buttons?" Santana chimed in from where she was sitting on the floor. She met Quinn's eyes with a defiant smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I think you talk a good game and you sit there reading all of the books, but I don't think you're actually fighting for the cause." Santana leaned back on her hands, her unrestrained breasts stretching the material of her shirt.

"I am too," Quinn said back childishly, averting her gaze. "Just because we fight differently doesn't mean we're not on the same team."

Santana's smile grew at that and she glanced over at Puck. The two shared some kind of look and Quinn didn't really understand. "Oh honey, believe me when I say we are definitely not on the same kind of team."

Puck snickered and, annoyed, Quinn stood from her place on the opposite couch and walked to the door. "I'm going back to campus. Rachel, I'll see you later."

She was out of the door before the even had a chance to protest. Santana thought she was so smart. Just because she dressed like that and didn't wear a bra didn't mean she was better than Quinn.

Still she had to wonder at what team Santana was even referring to.

-

A week later, Quinn figured it out when she caught Santana in a rather heated embrace with girl she'd seen at a few rallies named Marley Rose, she figured out that was at least half of what she'd meant.

-  
**May 1966**  
April passed quickly. She spent most of her time with her new group of friends, well her new group of friends and Santana, and reading and going to rallies with every free moment she had from studying. She was going to finish the year with high honors, much to the delight of her parents, but Quinn consoled herself with the fact that she was becoming a highly educated young woman. She took comfort in the fact that she would be leaving a greater mark for her future children. She was more than her mother's legacy already.

But as she packed up her belongings, hiding the feminist literature between her freshly laundered shirts, she grew worried. She would have to wait almost four months before returning to school and how would she make it through the summer? Being at home during holidays had almost been unbearable. What would she do for all of that time? Maybe she would squeeze a visit or two in with Rachel, but not too many or her parents would forbid her to go.

It dawned on her that she had spent months pretending to be a grown woman, but in all honesty, she wasn't her own woman at all. She was still so dependent on her parents and that settled in her stomach like a lump of the stale bread in the cafeteria. She felt distraught and uncertain of what the summer would bring. How was she to go back to serving her father's every whim? She'd go crazy.

She glanced up at Rachel's poster of Barbra Streisand and tried to pull strength from it. It didn't work as well as it did for Rachel, but eventually a plan started to form and she felt something within her ease. She would bide her time this summer and come fall, she'd start working on becoming less dependent.

-

"Promise me you'll write!" Rachel begged as they took the last few moments to say goodbye. Rachel's father was downstairs waiting. Quinn's parents would be there later that evening.

"At least once a week," Quinn promised yet again. Rachel was prone to dramatics, but the blonde had to admit she didn't want to leave this place either.

Rachel wrapped her arms around her roommate and squeezed tightly. "Oh I don't know why I'm so sad. This isn't goodbye. It's I'll see you later. I'm just going to miss you so much."

Quinn's eyes fluttered shut. "I'm going to miss you too, Rachel. Now go before you father comes looking for you."

They shared one last hug and then Rachel was off, her worn saddle shoes a reminder of how far they'd come.

-

**June 1966**

Being at home was exactly as it had always been. It was just that Quinn felt as if she no longer belonged here.

-

Quinn lay on her back when the knock at the front door came. She frowned because she was the only one home and her mother hadn't mentioned expecting company. She slid her feminist magazine beneath her mattress again and flipped over to stand up. She needed to straighten her appearance before she actually answered the door. So she hoped whomever it was would just be patient with her.

She tucked her blouse back into her skirt neatly, and slipped her loafers back onto her feet. She combed her fingers through her hair and frowned a little. It was getting long. She should probably cut it, but she'd been thinking about letting it grow out. All of the girls in her new group wore their hair longer than this and it was beautiful.

The knock sounded again and she turned away from the mirror and raced out of the door. She hurried down the stairs and paused right before the knob, taking a moment to calm her breathing. She didn't think there was anything wrong with still having manners, but her brain reasoned that maybe manners were yet another thing that the patriarchal establishment had put on women to ensure they behaved in a certain way. She'd have to find out.

The door opened and she let out a gasp when she found out who was on the other side of it. Finn smiled down at her, looking a lot older than he had before he left.

"Hi Quinnie, it's so great to see you." They were hugging before she managed to get out a single word and she wondered why she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe.

-

"Yeah, the war is something. You should see it over there, Q. I mean the whole place is green and the people look so different from Americans, but I think we're making a change. You know, we're really showing them how great life could be." Finn sat back on the porch swing. His mother had retired to bed a while ago.

Quinn listened to him speak. It was all so different from what she'd been hearing at the rallies at school. Maybe people were just confused. It was a very scary time in the world and she felt happy that guys like Finn were out there trying to make it safe. He was such a good guy, but there was something niggling at the back of her mind and she couldn't place it. Something just felt wrong about fighting a war to ensure peace.

"How long will you be home?" She asked instead, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped her arm around her's. "I'm only here until July. Then I'm going back. They promised me a great job when I get back and I can get you a nice ring. Then we can be married in another year, two tops."

The air rushed out of Quinn's lungs at just the thought.

-

Three weeks passed and everything was back to normal between her and Finn. They spent all of their free time together and she was epitome of the perfect girlfriend. A part of her loathed the role she was playing, but the other part wondered if she wasn't playing a role at all. Was this really who she was?

-

**July 1966**

Late one July afternoon, a huge car pulled up in front of Quinn's house. She and Finn had been out in the yard, joking around and she paused, wondering who was visiting. The passenger door opened first and Rachel popped out, a huge smile on her face.

"Quinn!" Rachel was already running to her before the shock at seeing her roommate wore off. She smiled brightly as Rachel came through the gate and hurled herself into Quinn's arms.

The two laughed and hugged tightly and Quinn heard the sound of the car doors opening and closing. She was surprised to see Kurt, Puck, and Sam walking towards her. She'd missed them almost as much as she'd missed Rachel. They all hugged her too, Puck spinning her around in the air as if she weighed nothing.

"Quinn, who are all of these people?"

She'd almost forgotten that Finn was standing there. Quinn stepped away from Puck quickly and walked back over to her boyfriend. "Finn, these are my friend from school. That's Puck, Kurt, and Sam. And Rachel's my roommate."

They all extended pleasantries, but she could tell Finn was uncomfortable. All of the guys were dressed in flared denims and flowing shirts. Kurt's hair had grown out to a semi-shaggy look and Sam's hair was now past his shoulders. And Rachel was wearing orange and white one-piece that reminded Quinn a little of a bathing suit and showed off almost all of her leg. Something Finn was clearly not used to seeing.

"What are you guys doing here?" She asked when a silence fell between the group awkwardly.

"Oh, we're taking a car trip to New York City for Independence Day. There's going to be a rally and fireworks," Sam answered, slinging his arm over Rachel's shoulders.

Her roommate nodded and practically bounced at his side. "Yeah, we were hoping you'd come with us. I haven't seen you in so long. It feels like practically forever."

Quinn knew how she felt. She'd been going stir-crazy at home before Finn had come back."I'd love to go! I just...Finn's not going to be here for much longer and what would I tell my folks?"

"Tell them that you're finally breaking the chains of oppression."

Spinning around, Quinn felt her heart trip a beat at seeing Santana. What was she doing there? Quinn looked down at her shirt that stopped just below her breasts and exposed her midriff completely and her shorts that were sinfully short. Why did she always have to dress like that? Quinn thought with a frown.

"Or you could tell them that you're going on a trip with your real friend." The girl looked up at Finn and then back at Quinn with that little smirk the blonde had always hated. And since when was Santana her friend?

"It's not that simple, Santana. I have responsibilities here and my mother would worry. I've never been to New York before."

Santana rolled her eyes and then looked up at Finn. "How do you put up with this, man? You want to come don't you?"

Finn had been almost oddly quiet during the whole exchange and Quinn couldn't bring herself to look up at his face. What he must think of her friends and her by extension.

"Sure, it sounds like a lot of fun."

Quinn's eyes shot to his face and her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

Smiling down at her, Finn patted her shoulder, pulling her into his side. "Sounds like fun. I don't have a lot of time left and I think we could have a great time." He glanced back up at Santana and gave her a little nod. "Count us in."

-

"How can you defend it? We're basically over there killing innocent people because they don't have 'freedom.' That doesn't make any sense!" Puck's voice raised and he shook his head.

"That isn't how it is. You don't know. You're not there. We are helping South Vietnam because they want their freedom. How can that be bad?" Finn questioned and grimaced, setting down his empty beer bottle.

Sam was huddled next to Rachel, looking up at the stars and didn't bother joining. Quinn could tell he wanted to, but Rachel was whispering into his ear. Puck and Finn had been arguing since the anti-war rally three hours before. Quinn had known it was a bad idea for him to go, but he'd insisted.

Puck took a drag of his joint and held it in, blowing the smoke out after a few moments. "You've been brainwashed by the man. You need to read, study what this war is really about. Showing the world who has the biggest gun."

Finn laughed humorlessly. "Is that what they're teaching you at that fancy school of yours? The truth? Why don't you do what real men do and enlist? Fight for your country."

"You think signing up to go over there and fight in this war is what it means to be a real man?" Puck sat up and laughed. The group they'd met up with at the rally were sitting next to him, watching it like a ping pong match. Quinn sighed. She didn't want to be around this fighting. She was starting to wish Finn hadn't come along.

She stood up, intending to walk away for some fresh air, but Finn's hand on her arm stopped her. "Can you get me another beer? Thanks, Quinnie." He barely looked at her when he spoke and she flashed back to Thanksgiving and Christmas. She gritted her teeth and nodded, walking over to the cooler.

"Is there some reason he couldn't get that himself? Are his hands broken?" Santana was in front of her seemingly out of nowhere. She's almost forgotten about the other girl. She'd been unusually quiet since they'd gotten to New York, mostly spending her time with Puck or Rachel.

Quinn started, nearly dropping the beer back into the ice cold water. "What?"

"I didn't think you did that anymore. Served men."

Hazel eyes glanced back over at Finn and shook her head. She felt guilt settle in her stomach and glared at Santana for making her feel it. "It's not like that. He's just in the middle of something and I was getting up. I really don't mind."

Santana stared at her for a long time, her expression disbelieving and disappointed. "Whatever you say."

Quinn stalked away. Who did Santana think she was anyway? Quinn wasn't serving Finn. She wasn't. Santana could go take a long walk off of a short pier.

-

The air was sticky humid as the fireworks started going off over the park. Quinn had stepped away from the group again, needing a break from it all. She'd promised to call her parents in the morning and she hoped she'd remember. She was pretty stoned right now and there was be a good chance she wouldn't.

"You copasetic?"

She didn't have to look over to see that Puck was standing next to her, but she didn't mind. "Yep, I'm feeling really good, kind of mellow."

Puck smiled when she looked over at him. "I told you. I only get the best."

Another firework went off and Quinn let it distract her. Being near Puck always gave her a funny feeling in her stomach. She did her best to ignore it, but the way he smiled at her just made her feel things she didn't with Finn. That was so very dangerous.

"So that's the boyfriend, then." It wasn't a question and Quinn didn't bother to reply. "That guy is a total meathead."

"Well, he's a meathead I love. So watch what you say." She knew what he was trying to do, but she knew Finn was a good man. He'd be a great husband too. Puck would never be someone's husband. He didn't even like having girlfriends.

Puck sighed like he was annoyed with her, but she didn't care. "You're smarter than that. You're bigger than him and just being some guy's wife."

She knew he was right. She'd been thinking it a lot since Finn came home, but she really did love him and being his wife wouldn't be that bad. He loved her and he'd take care of her and their family. Didn't mean she liked the idea that maybe he thought she wasn't able to take care of herself.

"Looks like your boyfriend is enjoying the show as well." Quinn looked at him in confusion and then in the direction of his eyes.

Finn was dancing around with Santana kind of draped over him. Quinn wasn't sure who she was angrier with.

-

"I'm having a good time. I didn't think I would with all of these peace-loving what do they call them? Hippies? I don't know. They're kind of fun."

Quinn knew Finn wasn't talking about Puck and Sam and she rolled onto her side, looking over at him. He was so handsome and she loved him so much, no matter what Puck said, she knew it to be true. Watching him with Santana just made her realize she'd give all of this up to be his wife. She didn't want to lose him.

He didn't question when she shifted in their joined sleeping bags and pressed her lips to his. No, there wasn't a single word uttered until he was nestled between her thighs and his light brown eyes bore into her's, the concern etched into his brow.

"Are you sure?" He whispered, looking around as if to be sure that no one would notice this single act of intimacy. She'd always pictured this would happen on her wedding night, on their marital bed, her last name Hudson instead of Fabray.

But things were different and she was learning the world was different than she'd ever imagined and after this, she knew she would never be the same. She'd be giving him a piece of her to take back to Vietnam. Something to ensure he'd always come back. So, she nodded and bit her lip to keep from crying out at the quick pain she felt when he entered her.

It was only for a moment and then she lost herself.

-

The morning brought fresh dew upon their skin and the harsh realities of what she'd done. There was a small part of her that wanted to take it back immediately, but she knew she couldn't. Besides she was a woman now. She felt somehow older, more mature and she was owning her own body, deciding not to let society dictate to her when it was "the right time" to grow in her own truth. Rings meant ownership and Quinn wanted her equality.

She sat up, wanting to pull on her shirt again before anyone noticed what had happened. There was a movement out of the corner of her eye and she looked, locking eyes with Santana who just shook her head before turning away.

-


End file.
